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Disclaimer: Pet Fly and Paramount own the copyright to The Sentinel and its characters. This piece of fan fiction was written solely for the love of the characters and to share freely with other fans. No profit is being made from the posting of this story.
Rating: PG Summary: A challenge to write a story that included zucchinis and a summer sausage... |
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Phallic symbols. Lately it was always phallic symbols. No blue jungles, no wolves and panthers, just damned phallic stuff! Tonight's little wet dream had been of dancing zucchinis, all begging him to take them. One large ribbed one had grown long curly brown hair with golden highlights, a pair of sky blue eyes and a set of luscious lips that spoke softly, "Me, Jim. Take me, you know you want to." And Jim had wakened with a groan and a sigh, to sticky sheets -- again! Downstairs, Blair also woke to sticky sheets. His dream had involved a big, thick, uncut, beef stick that he had been trying to swallow whole. In his dream, he'd heard a soft husky voice whisper, "Blair..." just before the taste of the summer sausage exploded on his tongue. Only it wasn't the taste of smoked corn-fed beef that he experienced -- oh no, Blair Sandburg's subconscious supplied some else, something more... bitter and creamy. He got up thinking, I'll have to change the sheets again. He'd lost count of how many nights lately he'd had to get up rather than sleep in gross sheets. Sleepily, he made his way to the bathroom, thinking to wipe himself down first. Pushing open the door, he came face to face with... "Jim!" Don't sound so surprised, he thought, the man does live here. Then he noticed what Jim was doing. "So you had a wet dream too?" he asked, a smile on his face. Jim finished wiping his groin down, and was now facing the sink so Blair couldn't see the sticky come, or his flaccid cock -- not quite so flaccid now that Blair was standing watching with what appeared to Jim to be an appreciative glint in his eye. "Yeah, and I feel an idiot." "It happens, man. So what was yours about?" Blair's words were out of his mouth before he could think. "Zucchinis, dancing zucchinis," Jim admitted reluctantly. "Yours?" "Beef stick." Blair groaned. Jim would be sure to remember Maggie Bryce's remark on the rig when she labeled him 'Lamb chop' and Jim, 'Beef stick'! He really shouldn't open his mouth till his first cup of coffee. "Really?" Jim's brain began to put things together and a glimmer of hope shone bright in his mind. "My zucchini grew hair, brown curly hair, and two blue eyes," he said as he advanced towards Blair. Blair looked up to Jim's face. "My sausage called out my name as I tried to swallow it. The voice sounded really familiar." He paused. "You know, these dreams could be our subconscious giving us subtle hints." "You think, Sigmund?" "Oh yes. So why don't we put your meat and my veggie together?" "Sounds like a plan to me." Both men had big grins on their faces. "Your bed or mine?" they said together. Blair laughed. "Yours! And don't bother changing the sheets, we'll only need to change them again later!" Jim grinned. "Pretty sure of yourself there, Sandburg!" Blair just turned and started to peel off his sweats. "You bet! You go up, I'll just clean up first." He turned to find Jim on his knees level with Blair's groin. "You ever heard of a lick and a promise, Darwin?" he said as he pulled Blair towards him. ~Fin~ |
